The only disturbing thing was the way she stood.
One moment, she was standing perfectly straight.
The next second, her entire body twisted and wriggled unnaturally, as if her bones had suddenly turned into soft ropes.
Her head tilted sharply, her shoulders bent in impossible angles, and then she straightened again.
It looked almost comical.
If only Lana had not been the only one who could see it.
As if sensing Lana's gaze, the girl suddenly turned her head.
Their eyes met.
The ghost tilted her head slightly and gave Lana a sweet, innocent smile.
But instead of feeling reassured, Lana felt a wave of cold disgust crawl through her body.
Without taking her eyes off the ghost, she quietly leaned toward Mr. Crow.
"How old is that ghost?"
Mr. Crow followed her gaze, and his expression immediately turned serious.
"If my estimation is correct," he spoke in a low voice, "that ghost is at least three hundred years old."
Lana inhaled sharply.
